by Steve Shadow
Crap; I started crying again and knelt down and hugged him. The tears woudn’t stop and he started crying too. It was pretty fucking pitiful. He poked me in the chest and I pulled back. We looked at each other through tear stained eyes and began laugh. I fell over and was on my back laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. Mickey was slapping the arms of his wheel chair and pushing himself in circles.
“Yahoo, man, lets get wasted; enough of this boo-hoo shit.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon catching up. He told me the whole sordid story. In the end the reason he beat it out of town was a misunderstanding and everything was cool with the people in Chicago. He was philosophical about Shelly. He understood the strain she was under and did not blame her for leaving him. He even paid for her hospital bills. I told him I was going to see her the next day and he wanted me to tell her to move away and get on with her life. Then he began to tell me how being in a wheel chair was a real chick magnet and how they all loved him. I gave him a skeptical look but he just stuck his tongue out at me and wiggled it around.
“As long as this works I ain’t hearing any complaints. Come on, man, I’m hungry. I’ll take you to this great vegetarian place. Just hang on a minute ‘till I get ready.”
I sat in the living room and waited for him. I was amazed at how self sufficient he was. He had a room with a Jacuzzi-like contraption with a sling and hoist so he could bathe. How he took care of his piss and shit business I was just as happy to not know. He was dressed and ready in a few minutes. We went out into the freezing weather and between the two of us, got to my car. He lifted himself in and pulled his legs after him. I folded up his chair, which was really light, and put it in the trunk. We drove to the restaurant and got him inside. Everyone seemed to know him. The owner came over and Mickey introduced us. The food was great. All during the meal girls kept stopping by and kissing him or mussing his long hair.
“See, dude, I told you. The chicks love me, well that and my product. Wanna’ see if we can get a couple to come back to my place tonight?”
“Well Mickey, you know I’m here with a friend from Chicago and we are staying with friends of his and their new baby and we are supposed to go somewhere tonight.”
His face fell and the disappointment that it held was palpable. “Dude,” he said softly. “I thought we were going to hang out tonight. I got plenty of room; stay at my place. Come on, man, you just got here.”
He sounded so forlorn that I did not have the heart to turn him down. I excused myself and called Clete. I explained the situation but I could tell he was pissed off. I guess he was getting a little tired of being around all that lovey-dovey kiddie-poo shit. I can’t say that I blamed him but I didn’t want to be around it either. He really got ticked off when I said I would not be back until late tomorrow. He hung up the phone without saying another word.
When we were ready to leave, I offered to pay for dinner and Mickey got pissed. He pulled out a thick wad of bills and started peeling them off.
“You’re my guest and I pay. I ain’t poor; I pay my way.”
“Hey, take it easy, Mickey. Sure, man, thanks. You were right; the food is great here.”
We got back to Mickey’s place and passed the night drinking and smoking and listening to his stereo. He explained his whole dope operation to me and bragged about how much money he was turning. He kept pressing me to join him. I kept declining. After one joint too many he crashed and I took over the couch. I spent a restless night thinking about him in the other room. I was glad he seemed to be doing OK but all the false bravado was obvious. Whatever helped him to cope, though, was fine by me. In the morning we had some breakfast. I called Shelly and she said to come over when I could; she would be home all day.
“I’m telling you man, you got to think about the deal. Man, you get back to Chicago and I’ll call you. I’m just sayin’ that this could be a good thing. I get the shit brought in to town and you just mule it here and we split big bucks. Yeah, I know, you don’t want any part of it but just think about it a little. I can trust you man, we are so cool together. Promise me, just think about it.”
“Sure, yeah, I will. It was great to see you Mickey. Let’s keep in touch.”
I hugged him and he held me tight and kept squeezing my arms. He looked up into my face and I could see the pain and the loneliness. I felt like shit but forced myself to smile. He let me go and I turned to open his front door. When I turned back he had spun his chair around and wheeled himself into his bedroom. I shut the door behind me and shuffled to my car. I got in and started it up and waited for the engine to warm up so I could get some heat. God, this was depressing. Now I was off to see Shelly who would probably be even more depressed than me. I felt like I was in the middle of a Bergman film. I also felt elated in some strange way. As much as I hated seeing Mickey in his condition, a part of me felt very happy that it was not me. I had been in any number of hairy situations over the past few years that could have gone south in a bad way. Maybe I was just lucky. I took a deep breath and was glad to be alive and in one piece. I set off determined not to be bummed out and to try and cheer Shelly up.
FOURTH VERSE
Shelly lived in a run down two story apartment building. It was just off the campus and looked like slum housing. I went into the lobby and climbed up to the second floor and knocked on her door. The place was cold, smelly and the hallways reeked of desperation. She opened the door. I was surprised at how raggedy she looked. Her hair was a mess and she had no make up on. She was wrapped in a blanket.
“Steve, come on in.” She opened her arms and I hugged her. She quickly stepped away. “Come in the kitchen; it’s warmer. The building is having heating problems and I have an electric heater in there.”
She was right; the place was frigid. “Jesus, Shelly. This ain’t right; it’s freezing outside. Why can’t they fix the heat?”
“Hey, that’s why the rent is so cheap. Come on in and sit down. I’ll make some tea.”
We spent the afternoon drinking herb tea and her telling me her long sad tale. I guess she did her best for Mickey but between his folks laying a huge guilt trip on them and her worsening emotional state, she had to get out. So she cracked and then she had no choice. Now she still felt guilty for not only leaving Mickey but for his having to cover her medical bills because her family had disowned her and did not want to have anything to do with her. She was working part time in the offices of the science building but was barely scraping by. I told her about my day with Mickey. I passed on what he said about her getting away and starting over. She agreed but seemed stuck. She tried to appear upbeat but I could see that she was lost. I offered to take her to dinner and asked her to pick out a nice spot.
She put on some makeup and changed clothes. She looked a lot better and I was glad that I was able to do something nice for her.
We shuffled out to my car and she directed me to an upscale supper club. Over drinks I told her all about my break up with Martha. We drank a bottle of wine with dinner and I was getting a little woozy. I didn’t want to be a prick but she was bumming me out with her non-stop litany of woes. I wanted to get back to Clete and someplace warm. I drove Shelly home and walked her to her door.
“It was great to see you Shelly. You really ought to think about moving. Come back to Chicago, I’ll help you out.”
She clutched my arm. “Wait, Steve, don’t go yet. Come in for a while, please, don’t go.”
She looked at me with a face full of longing and desperation. Jesus, what could I say? I went in and she made us some instant coffee. I kept trying to slide out of there but she kept saying to wait just a little longer. Finally, in the most pitiful tone I ever heard, she asked me to spend the night. I told her I did not think that was such a good idea.
“No, you don’t have to make love to me. Oh please, just sleep with me. Please, Steve, I’m so lonely. I got lots of quilts and we’ll be nice and warm. I have to be at work early but if you can just sleep with me, please.”
>
So I made another call to Clete and now he was really pissed. I tried to explain but it was a waste of time. I told him I would pick him up early and we could head back to Chicago.
Shelly was right. It was toasty under her quilts and the fur coats she had. I actually slept pretty well. In the morning it was like an igloo in her place but she just bounced up and got dressed. She seemed much more cheerful and kissed me goodbye and promised to stay in touch. After she left I hurriedly put my clothes on and closed her door behind me. I looked back at her apartment building and thought that I would be depressed living here too. I hoped she would move and get away. I slipped and slid to the car. Thank God the heater worked well. I made my way back to Clete’s friends place. The hill had been salted and cleared enough that I was able to make it up to the house. I thanked his friends for their hospitality and gave them the flowers I had bought when I stopped for breakfast on the way over. They seemed happy to see us go.
On the drive back Clete was a little pissed until I gave him the whole story and then he thawed out some. I was lost in my own thoughts about the state of my old friends and how tragic it had all turned out. I remembered that year when we were all so happy and carefree. Now it seemed all we had was loss in our lives.
I dropped Clete off at his mother’s. We had little more to say to each other. I drove home in a blue funk. As soon as I got in my apartment I dropped my clothes, fell into bed and slept for hours.
CODA
A few weeks later I got a phone call from Mickey. He sounded in good spirits.
“Hey man, how you doin’? Shit, it was good to see you. You give any thought to what we talked about? I got a 25 pound package sitting in Chicago. You up for a little road trip, man?”
“Mickey, it’s great to hear from you; everything going OK?”
“Yeah, man, everything is cool. What do you say; we in biz?”
“No Mickey. I told you I’m not interested. Anything else you need I will do what I can. But I ain’t interested in that stuff. I told you its too risky. I was in jail once and that was enough.”
I could tell he was hurt but he carried on and we shot the bull for awhile. He asked if I had heard from Shelly, which I had not, and then we hung up. We had promised each other to keep in touch but that did not happen. As much as I liked Mickey I felt it was only a matter of time before he got brought down and I didn’t need the heat.
Life moved on for me. I got into the theater business and found a new lady who was more suited to my way of thinking. That Christmas I got a card from Shelly. In it she told me she was in California (the card had an L.A. postmark) and doing OK. She said that Mickey finally did get busted. Because of his condition he was put in the custody his parents and she thought he was still there. She said she no longer was in touch with Jill in England. She wished me a Merry Christmas and signed the card Best Wishes, Shelly. She left no phone number or address. I somehow knew I would never hear from her again and I never did.. I truly wished both her and Mickey well but like so many tunes that play over and over in your head for months and then are just gone, I knew in my heart that this sad song was over.
ONE SMALL STEP
The building was just being finished. It was a new style of apartment building and they were being thrown up all over Chicago. They were called 4 plus ones. They were all basically the same design. It was a square block building with four floors, two wings and parking underneath. The units were all one bedroom or studios. Like everything else in Chicago they were put up cheap, quickly and would undoubtedly be turned over once the depreciation on them maxed out. Me, I just wanted a new place. I was tired of the crummy furnished room I was renting. The new place had a lot of attractions for me. It was only two blocks from the El train and a short walk to the park and lake front. I knew the neighborhood because my pal George lived near there. It had a few good restaurants, some low-rent bars and a cheap movie theater where you could see two films for 75 cents. The area was also filled with a bunch of colorful drunks and lots of crazies that Reagan and his policies had dumped on the street.
I called the number on the front of the building and went to see the rental agent. I had to fill out a bunch of paperwork but the fact that I was gainfully employed and had no outstanding warrants made me a good rental candidate. I signed a one year lease on a one bedroom apartment. For 150 bucks a month I was now going to get into a brand new home.
On move in day I got my buddy George to help me. It took a few trips to get all my stuff moved. I really only had a book case made of bricks, some books, records and stereo equipment. A few clothes and kitchen things made up the rest. The dark yellow carpet had just been laid and the place smelled new and fresh. I was one of the first people in the building and the hallways were still just bare wood. After we got everything put away George and I went to a used furniture store where I got a table and chairs, a king size mattress and a lounge chair. We dropped that stuff off and went to Sears where I got a bed frame, chest and nightstand. I had a couple of lamps from my last place. Once everything was delivered and set up, I took George out to the Gold Nugget for pancakes and bacon.
“So George, how do you like the place?”
“Are you kidding? A brand new pad like that is so cool. I wonder if some hot chicks will move in.”
“Yeah, I thought of that too. Could be, you know. The area is moving up and being close to the El and lake make it pretty desirable. We’ll have to wait and see.”
George and I were always on the hunt for women. He had quit work and was living off his savings. I thought that this was a stupid thing to do but he had saved a ton of cash from his last job, some union building gig, and he wanted to enjoy life for awhile.
He had a tiny place a couple of blocks from me and only paid $80 a month in rent. We hung out a lot and were always at the local bars digging the live music and doing our best to pick up girls.
My first neighbors were a couple from South America who did not speak much English. My Spanish was rudimentary but we managed to exchange a few words. They proved to be quiet and rarely seen neighbors. As the building filled up I met more people my own age and with similar tastes. Down the hall was a young married couple that smoked dope all the time. Upstairs of me lived a podiatrist who only had a mattress and a lamp for furniture but he liked company and had a closet full of drugs. I also met a black LPN who cared for elderly people. He told me all sorts of stories about long trips to Europe and ocean voyages while caring for his charges. One of his long term patients had died and left him a new Caddy and a lot of money. He was taking a sabbatical and just getting high every day. He was gay and took me to some of the local drag bars. They were a real hoot and the drinks were cheap. I took George to one of the drag clubs but he was freaked out by the show and wanted to leave because he was afraid to use the men’s room. Buddy, the male nurse and I got a lot of laughs out of that night. I finally convinced George to use the ladies room while I stood guard.
All in all the building proved to be a great collection of freaks. I was able to get dope or pills any time of the day and night from my neighbors. I discovered that a waitress I knew from Uno’s Pizza place downtown lived in the building. I saw here at the mailbox one day. She was about 20 years older than me but really hot. I had been getting it on with her occasionally for a few weeks. I also had met a cute blond outside the building one night. We went up to my place and spent the night getting stoned and screwing. I found out she was the waitress’ daughter. I wondered if they knew I was screwing them both. I thought it tacky to ask but I was tempted.
By the end of the first month of living in my new place I had learned to love the area. Even the bums and crazies seemed nice. Every time I came home late at night, after closing the movie theater I managed, I would see the same bum. He always asked for 13 cents. I would say I did not have 13 cents but I could give him a quarter. He would hesitate, seeming to be thinking it over, and then would say, “OK, I really wanted 13 cents
but if that’s all you have, I’ll take it.” After I gave him the coin he would try and hug me. On the next block was the match guy. He was some local nut case. I had no idea where he lived. He was always over dressed for the weather. He stood by the curb all day and asked everyone that passed by for a match. Whether or not you gave him one, he would just say thank you about 20 times. If you did give him a match he would put it in his pocket and say thank you 20 more times. He wore a black wig that was always falling off his head. We also had the usual collection of bag ladies and winos. One drunk, named Tuco, would offer to sing a song if you gave him a drink. George and I spent a lot of nights buying him cheap wine and listening to his sad Puerto Rican love songs. On those early summer evenings we liked to sit on the low stone wall in front of my apartment building and drink cheap wine while listening to my transistor radio. The human parade always brought an interesting collection of humanity past my door.
The building had pretty much filled up by mid-summer but the apartment across from me had remained empty. I had been in my place for well over a month when one night I heard a loud banging noise out in the hall. I opened my door and surprised a young lady in a mini dress and black boots. She had short blond hair and nice legs. She was struggling with a box while trying to open her door.
“Hey, let me help you.” I took the box from her and introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Doug, your next door neighbor. Are you just moving in now?”
She fumbled with her keys and managed to get the door to her studio open. She turned and smiled at me. “Thank you, Doug. Yes, I am. I brought some things to drop off. The delivery people will be here tomorrow so I can officially move in. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Mattie Long.”
